


It's Me or the Dog

by RuArcher (Coriesocks)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Dramatic!sirius, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Mechanic!Sirius, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Oblivious, Pining, Student!Remus, it's all in Sirius' head, mention of animal euthanasia, remus lupin fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-25 16:58:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriesocks/pseuds/RuArcher
Summary: Sirius didn’t realise how much he relied upon his best friend (and took him for granted) until he was replaced. With a dog.





	It's Me or the Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Based on prompt#208 - Remus gets a pet dog, Sirius gets jealous.
> 
> I hope you like what I've done with it, wonderful prompter!  
> And, of course, thank you to my brilliant alpha and beta, tsundanire and Kristinabird. Without you two, this fic would have made a lot less sense.

Sirius rolled his motorbike into the garage and secured a chain through the tires. He loved his garage. It was where he came to relax or while away time, tinkering with his bike or working on another rebuild. Even though he worked as a mechanic five days a week, entering his garage to stow his bike after a long day always rejuvenated him, and washed away the day’s aches. It was a tidy space, more or less, but clearly well used. There were tools and dirty rags scattered about the workbench that ran along one side and a large rack of shelves piled high with boxes and bike parts sat along the back wall, almost covering the door that led out into the back garden. Doors hung crookedly on the old cupboards beneath the workbench and ragged posters of motorbikes and classic cars covered up most of the bare brick that wasn’t hidden by shelves or junk. The floor was clean though, except for the oil stains. It was the only space that was truly his alone—more so than his bedroom, which had had its share of temporary visitors in the time he’d lived here—and he was fiercely protective of it.

Once his bike was chained up, he grabbed a clean cloth from a drawer and carefully wiped down the bodywork so it shone again then slipped the cover over it. Remus often joked that he cared more about his bike than other people. But so what if he did? At least the bike had never eaten the last of his chocolate biscuits. 

The air was cool when he stepped outside and slid the roller door shut, but it was still light. Summer evenings like these always tricked him into thinking he had more time left in the day, but he knew it had to be quite late because it had been gone seven when he left work. Thank fuck it was Friday, he thought, as he yanked off his gloves and dropped them into the helmet slung over his arm. Remus would probably be waiting for him to get in so they could have tea and then get down the Ye Olde Thirsty Pig for the regular Friday piss up. He was dimly aware that he should have texted to let Remus know he was running late, but it wasn’t like it was an unusual occurrence and surely he had to know by now that Sirius had gotten caught up on a project and lost track of time? He shook his head, dismissing the slight twinge of guilt. Remus didn’t care what time he turned up. 

He slipped the two large padlocks into place—their sleepy suburb wasn’t exactly a crime hot spot, but Sirius never took chances when it came to his bike—and set them in place with a satisfying _click_ , all the while wondering what Remus had brought him back for tea. It had become one of their little routines, one of the many things that their friends said made them like an old married couple; every Friday, Remus would pick up something for tea on his way back from uni. He’d never tell Sirius what it was going to be, but it was always delicious. 

He gave himself a quick once-over to ensure he wasn’t going to traipse ‘garage gunk’ into the house, and when he was satisfied he was mostly presentable—the grease on his hands and under his nails was by now pretty much embedded into his skin so there was no point trying to scrub it off—he went inside. His stomach was already growling in anticipation of the feast that no doubt awaited him. He tossed his helmet into the basket of hats, gloves, and scarves that sat by the front door year-round, hung his coat over the end of the banister and kicked off his boots. The house was quiet, which wasn’t too unusual since Remus often curled up on the sofa with a book after getting in from work, but with how late it was, Sirius had expected to find him pottering about in the kitchen with the radio on, or watching Robot Wars on the telly. The house felt empty, though, and the expected smell of takeaway food was strangely absent.

“Remus? You in?” he called out, wandering through to the living room. It was empty. A tattered paperback lay face-down on the coffee table with a half-drunk mug of tea beside it, but there was a skin on the surface of the liquid suggesting that it had been abandoned some time ago. 

Frowning, he walked back past the front door and poked his head into the kitchen-diner, but that was empty too. 

“Remus?” he tried again. “Where are you? Did you fall asleep at your desk again?” he shouted, heading up the stairs. They shared a small three-bedroom house together, but the third bedroom was little more than a cupboard so rather than find a third roommate, Remus had taken over the space as a study so he could have somewhere to spread out his uni work. It wouldn’t be the first time Sirius had found him face down and drooling on a textbook.

The office was devoid of life too. The bathroom door was wide open, so he didn’t _think_ Remus would be in there but he checked anyway to make sure he hadn’t slipped and fallen in the bath or cracked his head open on the toilet bowl. But no, it was empty too, which only left the bedrooms.

“Remus?” Sirius whispered, knocking on Remus’ bedroom door. He pressed his ear close to the wood, but heard nothing. He paused, wondering briefly about the implications of raiding Remus’ privacy. They had very few boundaries in their friendship, but they generally didn’t wander into each other’s rooms when the other wasn’t there, but this was an emergency so Remus would understand the necessity, wouldn’t he? With an excuse in hand, it was with only a twinge of guilt that he pushed the door open and gazed upon the very clean, very tidy, and disappointingly Remus-less room. 

“Where the fuck are you, you sneaky bastard,” he muttered to himself. The only room left to check was his own bedroom, and he definitely wouldn’t be in there…not unless he’d snuck in for a cheeky nap. It had never happened before, and would admittedly be a slightly odd thing for Remus to do, but there was a first time for everything. And Sirius knew better than most how adept the man was at falling asleep absolutely anywhere.

Sirius’ room was exactly as he’d left it though. Duvet pushed back and draped half off the bed, drawers hanging open and spilling clothes onto the floor, several dirty glasses lined up on the bedside table, and his small collection of empty bottles of Jack Daniels sat on the window sill. Brows knitted together with confusion, Sirius fished his phone out of his pocket to check if Remus had texted. He was used to Remus sticking to a certain routine. Sirius was the one who would flit in and out at strange hours, stay late at work because he forgot the time, or randomly decide to pop out for a few beers with James. Remus would nearly always text when he was going to be late, or if he went out with any of his uni friends. He’d even texted before when he knew Sirius wouldn’t be at home to notice he wasn’t there on time, just in case Sirius got back early, so where was Remus now?

His stomach growled again, reminding him that with no Remus, there was also no supper.

He wasn’t worried. Hungry—exceptionally so—but not _worried_. Remus had every right to be out and not tell him, even though it was completely out of character and he’d never abandoned Sirius on a Friday night before. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship or anything; they were just mates. Best mates, but still _just mates_ , despite the running joke their friends had about them being an old, married couple. He’d probably got caught up helping a friend with some research at uni, or maybe picked up an extra shift at the book shop. He would always go out his way to help people out, even if it got in the way of important things like Sirius’ takeaway and pub night. Why hadn’t he texted though…? 

He started to tap out a text to casually let Remus know he was at home (’Oi knob head I’m back, where’s dinner?’) but before he could press send, something outside the window caught his eye. He’d been very lucky to find a house in the area he wanted with such a decent sized garden. It was mostly grass, with few scrubby bushes and a couple of apple trees that had seen better days, but there was a large shed at the end, which Sirius hoped one day to convert into a proper workshop so he could free up the garage for his completed projects. He stepped up to his bedroom window, phone clasped loosely in his hand, and there in the garden was what could only be described as a beast. It was a huge, black thing and had it not chosen that moment to let out a huge booming bark, he would have assumed it was a bear. He opened the window for a closer look, already wondering who you were supposed to call when you found a dog-bear in the garden, when he noticed Remus standing in the middle of the lawn. Did he not see the danger he was in? 

Without warning, the beast tore towards Remus, murderous intent in its eyes and Sirius let out a strangled shriek (it definitely wasn’t a scream). He was about to leap into action—to do what, he wasn’t sure, but he had to save Remus!—when the beast skidded to a halt and dropped something at Remus’ feet. Sirius’ warning cry was caught in his throat as Remus knelt down and threw his arms around the beast’s neck, scratching his hands over its flank.

“What the bloody fuck—” Sirius muttered. The beast bounded away from Remus, woofing, yapping, and wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might shake the thing loose.

“Sirius!” Remus called, having finally noticed him hanging out of the window. His skin was flushed and he’d pushed the sleeves of his jumper above his elbows so he must have been outside for a while. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and glanced down at the dog who was staring curiously up at Sirius, head cocked to one side. “Erm, there’s someone I want you to meet. A new, uh, friend of mine.” He grinned sheepishly and Sirius tried hard to school his features. 

Friend? Was he talking about the dog or was there someone else lurking around who he hadn’t noticed. Had Remus brought a date home? Why else would he look so nervous? “Er, right. Down in a sec,” Sirius shouted and withdrew back into his room, his heart still pounding from the shock of thinking Remus was about to be eaten. He took a couple of breaths to calm himself down and then jogged downstairs to meet this _friend_ of Remus’.

———

To Sirius’ relief, there was no one else in the garden. Just Remus and the…well, he supposed it was technically a dog, but upon closer inspection, it looked more like a wolf-bear hybrid.

“Care to explain to me why you’re cavorting with a hell-hound in the garden?” Sirius asked brightly as he stepped out of the back door. Remus was crouched on the lawn scratching the belly of the beast, but he whipped his head round guiltily when Sirius spoke. He stood, brushing the grass from the knees of his jeans and looked about to speak when the beast at his feet began growling. Its hackles were up, and its lip was curled back revealing a row of very large, sharp teeth.

Sirius locked eyes with the animal and snarled back. He wasn’t going to be threatened out of his own back garden. What the hell was Remus thinking, bringing this rabid thing home? He had always attracted strays and oddballs, but this was the first thing he’d brought home that looked like it could crush a man’s windpipe with the swipe of one over-sized paw.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay Padfoot, he’s my friend. He’s not going to hurt me,” Remus said softly, crouching before the dog with his arms held out and his fingers splayed. His face was no more than a metre from the dog’s muzzle, and Sirius’ mind supplied rapid-fire images of all the horrific ways this encounter could end. To Sirius’ great surprise, though, the dog just whimpered, and sat back on his haunches, its tongue lolling from its mouth while it panted. “You too, Sirius,” Remus said sternly. “Stop growling at Padfoot and maybe he’ll be friendlier.”

“He started it,” Sirius grumbled, but he relaxed his stance a little. Remus rolled his eyes like it was Sirius being the unreasonable one. He continued to keep a wary eye on this _Padfoot_ though. “Go on then. What’s going on? Did it follow you home?”

“Erm, not quite.” Remus ran a hand over Padfoot’s head, scratching behind his ear. It really was a huge creature; his head came up as far as Remus’ chest. “So, you know how sometimes I volunteer at the shelter where Peter works? Well, this poor guy has been there for months, and what with how big he is, and how much he eats, they’ve really been struggling to find a forever home for him—”

“I wonder why that is? Perhaps it’s because he looks like he snacks on babies.”

“Sirius! He’s a big softy,” Remus placed a hand either side of the dog’s head and smushed his face into his muzzle. “Aren’t you, Pads? Nothing but an overgrown puppy. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you? Of course you wouldn’t,” he murmured in a babyish voice, and then descended into nonsensical sounds while the dog lapped at his face. 

Sirius grimaced, both at the ridiculous noises Remus was making, and the thought of having a dog’s tongue anywhere near his skin—he knew what they spent half the day licking. “That still doesn’t explain what he’s doing here,” he said, folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to look stern.

“As I said, they’re struggling to re-home him, and you know what they do to dogs they can’t re-home, don’t you?”

“No?” He knew he’d probably been told at some point by Peter or even Remus, but he didn’t always listen when they talked about the shelter. 

“They—” he covered Padfoot’s ears, then leant forward and whispered, “—euthanize them.” Remus looked horrified at the idea. Sirius glanced down at Padfoot, wondering how anyone would even be able to get close enough to euthanize him. They’d probably have to get a sniper to take him out.

“So you, what? Decided to abscond with him? Is he a fugitive? Please don’t tell me the animal shelter police are going to come and arrest you—who’s going to make my tea in the morning if they throw you into the pound with this behemoth?”

“I’m pretty sure you’d cope just fine. But I didn’t kidnap him, I…um. I may have adopted him—on a trial basis, of course! I know I should have spoken to you first, but he looked so sad and Peter said he didn’t have long left—”

“Why couldn’t Petey take him then? Why you?”

“You know his mum’s allergic—”

“Yeah? Well, that didn’t stop him working at a bloody dog shelter, did it?”

Remus’ face fell. “Look, I can find him another home, I just need a few days. He was miserable in the shelter. I couldn’t leave him there. You didn’t see the way he looked at me every time I walked away.”

Sirius ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated groan. “Fine! Whatever. He can stay. But only until you find a proper home for him.” He never could say no to Remus, especially not when he looked so dejected.

“Thanks, Sirius! You won’t even know he’s here.” He flung his arms around Sirius’ neck, and Sirius got a lungful of his warm, safe Remus-y scent. They didn’t hug like this nearly enough, he thought distractedly. Was it weird that he enjoyed his best mate’s hugs so much? James was a good hugger, but Remus was on another level. It was as if their bodies were designed to be together in this way. 

Padfoot barked excitedly, yanking Sirius from his internal hug-monologue, and he pulled away before Remus could think he was too odd for prolonging the contact. He cleared his throat and kicked at a clump of squashed, dead grass that had fallen from the lawn mower last week.

“It’s no problem,” he said gruffly. “I’m not cleaning up his shit, though. And if he eats my shoes or pisses anywhere in the house, I reserve the right to throw you both out onto the street.” He sent Padfoot a final glare, and then stalked back inside. He wasn’t sure why he felt so irritated; he wasn’t actually cross with Remus. Sirius had always said his heart was too big, and it was so like him to befriend the underdog (even if that underdog happened to be as big as ten dogs combined), but he didn’t like the way Padfoot looked at him. It was too knowing, too smug. It almost felt like he wanted to steal Remus away from him, and there was no way Sirius was going to stand for that.

A dog! For fuck’s sake. They barely managed to look after themselves, so how did Remus expect them to look after a dog? One day he’d learn to say to say no to him.

———

Sirius hated that bloody dog. It had only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. He kept finding clumps of wiry black hair on the furniture, or in the corners of the rooms and there were dog toys all over the floor, always perfectly positioned to trip Sirius up when he was dashing out of the house. There were even claw marks on the living room window sill from where Padfoot liked to stand propped up so he could bark at every single person who walked past the house. God forbid anyone actually try and come down the driveway—when the Postman had walked up to the letterbox the other morning, Sirius thought Padfoot was going throw himself through the glass. Then there was the enormous dog bowl, a huge sack of kibble, and a king-sized dog bed squashed into the corner of the kitchen-diner, which had only fitted once they’d shoved the dining table against the wall and which meant that Sirius kept knocking his elbow against the radiator when he was eating his breakfast. His suggestion that they stick a kennel outside in the garden for the dog to stay in when they were working or sleeping, was instantly shot down and both Remus and Padfoot had looked so scandalised by the idea that he hadn’t pursued it.

The worst thing, though—worse than the steady destruction of his home—was that Padfoot followed Remus around _everywhere_ , side-eyeing Sirius as if he were a threat to Remus’ safety. Or he would just stare at Sirius quizzically whenever he tried to do anything, with his head cocked to one side and his huge tongue lolling out. Sirius felt like he was constantly being judged; it was like living back with his parents. 

He put up with it all even though he was sure he was going insane from the stress, because Remus so clearly doted on the dog, and he would do anything to make Remus happy. He only wished that one day Remus would look at him with as much adoration as he looked at Padfoot…but that would never happen.

———

Work had been one long battle between annoying customers and impossible to find bike parts. To make matters worse, his manager had promised some idiot that his bike would be ready to pick up the next day without bothering to check how much work would be required, and because Sirius was ‘the bike guy’ it ended up being left to him. He hadn’t been able to leave the garage until gone eight, so by the time he arrived home, he was feeling tired and irritable. It was only the knowledge that it was Monday night, also known as trashy film and takeaway night, that kept him from crawling straight into bed the second he dismounted from his bike. Remus had texted while Sirius was still at work to let him know that he’d picked up a crate of Sirius’ favourite beers and chosen a film. Sirius couldn’t wait to get changed into his takeaway trousers (a loose pair of zig-zag patterned joggers that James had bought him one Christmas), and settle down on the sofa, tucked into Remus’ side. Or perhaps, he’d rest his head on Remus’ lap and let him plait his hair; he loved it when Remus played with his hair.

He could hear Padfoot barking before he’d even slid his key into the lock, the deep booming sound reverberating around the whole house, and probably through the neighbours’ houses too. He shouted out a _hello_ in the direction of the living room from where he could just about make out the sound of the TV though Padfoot’s racket, before dashing up the stairs to get changed.

Feeling marginally better after a shower and with his most comfortable, yet unattractive, clothes on, Sirius stepped into the living room brandishing a Domino’s menu and the beers. However, his pro-pizza argument died on his lips once he took in the scene before him. Remus was exactly where Sirius had expected him to be—in his usual spot on the sofa, blanket already across his legs, a book in his hand and the TV on in the background—but in Sirius’ usual spot, was Padfoot. He was lying on his back, legs in the air, knob on display for all to see, his head on Remus’ lap, and the rest of his massive bulk sprawled across the sofa. The one eye that Sirius could see twitched open, and he could have sworn the dog was grinning smugly at him while Remus scratched at the fur under his chin. 

“Show off,” muttered Sirius, snarling at the dog. “At least I still have my balls.”

Padfoot yawned, flashing off his plentiful array of gleaming teeth, and made what sounded like a satisfied groan as he wriggled under Remus’ hand.

“I didn’t hear you come down,” Remus said, marking his place in the book with an old train ticket and carefully placing it on the arm of the sofa. He must have sensed Sirius’ annoyance because his eyes briefly flicked down to the dog before he smiled sheepishly at Sirius. “Sorry, I know he’s in your spot, but he just looks so comfortable I didn’t want to move him.”

There was no question about it this time, the dog smirked. He actually _smirked_ at Sirius. 

“I can move him if you like…” Remus offered and Sirius genuinely considered demanding that the dog make use of the giant dog bed for once, but he was weak for Remus’ hopeful, pleading eyes.

“It’s fine. Whatever. I’ll take the chair.” Sirius huffed and flounced into the ugly armchair in the corner that forced you to sit too upright and was too far away from the coffee table, and therefore, the snacks. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the too-far-away coffee table that he couldn’t even reach to put his feet up on. He couldn’t believe Padfoot had stolen his place on the sofa; it was _his_ spot. He was the one who was supposed to have his head in Remus’ lap. That was their thing! He’d wrap himself up in the ratty old blanket, rest his head on Remus’ leg, and then Remus would play with his hair and feed him popcorn. It was their Monday night tradition and Padfoot was pissing all over it! 

Remus put the film on without ceremony but Sirius was too annoyed to pay attention to what it was. He’d been looking forward to tonight all day, and now everything was ruined. He couldn’t even enjoy his beer because every time he looked up, he caught sight of Padfoot flashing the room his cock and no-balls like some kind of whore for Remus’ attention. It was sickening. 

“So, you want pizza then?” Remus asked when Sirius got back from the fridge with a second beer. It might taste like betrayal and abandonment, but it was still beer.

Sirius shrugged and flopped into the horribly uncomfortable armchair without meeting Remus’ gaze. “I guess.” He took a large swig of beer and tried to ignore the feeling of Remus’ eyes boring into the side of his head.

“Are you…Did I do something wrong?” Remus asked hesitantly.

Sirius frowned at the can in his hand and absently tapped out an irregular rhythm with one fingernail. “What makes you say that?” He couldn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the concern on Remus’ face.

“Well, for one, you’ve never been so unenthusiastic about pizza, and two, you’ve barely said two words to me since you got home. What are you sulking about?”

“I’m not sulking,” he huffed. “Work was shit, okay? I just— I don’t want to talk about it.” He risked a quick glance in Remus’ direction and hastily looked away, pretending to be deeply interested in the film. How could he tell Remus that his new best friend was ruining his life—he’d never believe him, or worse he _would_ believe him and then he’d move out with the dog. It was obvious he lo— _liked_ the bloody dog more than Sirius. 

“If you say so,” Remus replied, but Sirius could tell by his tone that he wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “I’ll order us the usual then?”

“Whatever,” he muttered into his chest. 

Remus sighed heavily and left the room to make the call, Padfoot trotting after him once he’d sneezed all over the coffee table. He’d paused the film before he got up and the screen was frozen with a picture of the main character gazing longingly at her love interest. It reminded Sirius of how Remus mooned at the stupid dog, so he took an annoyed swig of his beer and continued to not sulk. With any luck, Remus would find a home for the dog soon and all of this would become a distant memory, something to be swept under the carpet and never brought up again. He just wanted Remus’ full attention back on him; was that too much to ask?

When he heard Remus baby-talking at Padfoot in the kitchen, he pulled out his phone and texted James to distract himself from further self-pitying thoughts.

_S: I don’t suppose you and Lils want a dog?_

_J: Not getting on with your new furry housemate?_

_S: Am I fuck. It hates me. I hate it._

_J: Are you sure he’s not just responding to your negativity? Have you even tried being nice to him?_

Sirius groaned. Fucking James. Had he tried being nice to the dog? Probably not, but the dog had started it by growling at him in his own back garden, and ever since that, he’d made it quite clear he thought himself above Sirius—stealing his toast off the counter, trying to trip him up with toys, chewing a hole in one of his socks, and now stealing Sirius’ spot on the sofa. Bloody dog really couldn’t be more obvious with his feelings.

Remus shuffled back into the room a few minutes later with an update on the pizza situation, Padfoot at his side, of course. Sirius grunted his acknowledgement and drained his can. Remus cut a dejected figure, slumped on the sofa with Padfoot once again sprawled across his lap and Sirius started to feel a little guilty for letting the atmosphere between them grow so stormy. 

The film started playing again, but Sirius still couldn’t focus on it. He felt bad. Not gut-wrenchingly so, but enough for the beer to sit heavily in his stomach. He glanced at Padfoot out of the corner of his eye and wondered whether he had been a little harsh. He supposed he was kind of cute when he was like this, even though it should be Sirius lying across Remus and not Padfoot. Maybe James was right. Maybe he hadn’t given Padfoot a fair chance. He looked up at Remus, who was staring intently at the TV and he felt a warmth spread through his chest. For Remus, he’d try—really, _really_ try— to get along with the dog.

———

Sirius slowly blinked his eyes open. He had a vague recollection of his alarm going off once or twice, but he must have turned it off because the room was silent. Threads of the dream that had kept him fighting to stay asleep played through his mind. He stretched languorously, dimly aware that he should be getting ready for work, but then his morning erection brushed against the mattress and all responsible thoughts flew out of his mind. He groaned at the sudden friction; it had been a very, very good dream. He rolled onto his back, scratching a hand down his chest before shoving his hand into his boxers as he tried to recall some of the specifics. A warm body, firm chest, light brown eyes, a hand in his hair pulling just hard enough to keep him in line, soft words murmured in his ear. There were never any faces in these dreams, not that he could ever remember, but he always got the sense that it was the same person in the starring role. Sometimes, when he was out with his friends and he felt like having a bit of fun, he would look for someone who matched this fantasy image, but even though he’d come close several times, he’d never yet met someone who ticked all the boxes. He quickly brought himself to completion with fleeting images of his fantasy-person spread out on the bed just for him, and then allowed himself a few precious minutes to float in his post-orgasmic, boneless, bliss before making a start on getting ready for work. If only all mornings started so well.

He took his time in the shower, thinking back to the previous night and the promise he’d made to himself to make an effort with Padfoot. After the bumpy start, it hadn’t been so bad. Padfoot had been relegated to the kitchen once the pizza arrived (Sirius may or may not have given him the finger over Remus’ shoulder as Remus reluctantly shut the door) and Sirius was able to reclaim his spot on the sofa. They managed to devour both large pizzas between them, and drank far too much, but it was good, and they had easily slipped back into their usual pattern with Remus tossing out acerbic comments about the film while Sirius laughed along. Padfoot had even rejoined them eventually, and after a glare at Sirius’ position on the sofa, plonked himself on the floor at Remus’ feet with a put-upon _wuff_. He didn’t know if Remus had seen him stick his tongue out at the animal, but if he did he didn’t say anything. It was only a momentary lapse—Sirius was determined to make good on his promise. 

His good mood continued as he rubbed a towel vigorously over his head to dry his hair and then pulled on a ratty old pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He practically skipped out of his room, half in a hurry because he was definitely late for work now, but half excited to see Remus and prove to him that he could be friendly to Padfoot. He descended the stairs two at a time, eager to catch Remus before he left, but as he jumped off the bottom step, one foot landed on something soft that let out a high pitched shriek and set Padfoot off barking. Sirius tried to lift his foot up before he had fully landed because _what the fuck was that!?_ , but ended up losing his balance and careened into the shoe rack.

“FUCK!” he yelled, picking himself up off the floor, and patting himself down. His heart was racing as he looked to see what he’d trodden on, thinking it was a small, probably mortally wounded, animal but there at the bottom of the stairs was a rubber chicken. “Fucking stupid bastard bollocking—”

“Everything okay?” Remus asked, stepping out of the kitchen with a tea towel in his hands, his ever-present hairy shadow just behind him. “I heard a noise.”

Sirius levelled a glare at him. So much for his good mood. “What do you think?” He grabbed the chicken off the floor and thrust it into Remus’ chest as he stalked past him. _It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, it’s only temporary_ he repeated to himself. 

“Sorry about that,” Remus said, following Sirius into the kitchen. “I thought I’d picked them all up but he gets them out as fast as I put them away. You know how it is.” He chuckled and grabbed a plate from the rack by the sink, carefully drying it with the tea towel before putting it back in the cupboard.

“Whatever.” How could Remus not see that the dog was trying to finish him off? The radio was playing quietly in the corner, the station with all the talking that Remus seemed to love despite the number of idiots who called in, and Sirius let the words wash over him as he shoved two slices of bread into the toaster. _It’s only temporary…_

 _Only temporary!_. Finally paying attention to his own mantra, he turned to Remus. “So, have you found anyone who wants a fuck-off-huge dog yet?” he asked lightly. Padfoot was laying on the floor by Remus’ feet, his huge head resting on over-sized paws and his eyebrows twitching as he looked between the two of them.

Remus busied himself with drying the cutlery “Ah, no, um, not as such. I’ve been so busy with essays. I’ve um. I’ve put the feelers out at uni, to see if anyone’s in the market for a new pet, but for now—”

“We’re stuck with him,” Sirius finished flatly. He sighed, swallowing down his irritation. It was the dog he was annoyed with, not Remus. He took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I told you he could stay, so…” he shrugged.

Remus finally turned to look at him, relief painted across his face. “Thanks, I really do appreciate it. I know you’re not his biggest fan. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” The way he looked at Sirius was so grateful, so open that he wanted to look away before he did something ridiculous, like cry. Thankfully the toaster chose that moment to ping. 

“Yeah, well.” Sirius grabbed his toast and a knife, buttering it with his back to Remus. “I suppose I could make a bit more of an effort. Maybe I could take him for a walk or play fetch with him sometime.” Why was he offering to walk the hell-beast? Padfoot would probably drag him into the undergrowth and murder him at the first opportunity. Hopefully, Remus would find a new home for him before he had to do either of those things. 

Remus’ eyes lit up. “Do you want to come now? I’m just going to take him down to the canal path and back.”

“Maybe another time—I should really get to work or my boss is going to kill me.” _Much like your dog._ He stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth and dashed out of the kitchen, waving goodbye over his shoulder.

———

It had been a whole week since Padfoot had shown up to ruin Sirius’ life and there was no sign of him moving out any time soon. After Remus had sacked off pub night for the second week running (”Padfoot is still getting settled, I don’t want to leave him by himself all night after having to leave him alone when I went to my seminar today.”) Sirius found his tolerance for the dog—which was admittedly not very high to start with—dropping even lower. Was it too much to expect his best mate to want to spend some time with him down the pub? He’d tried to be nicer. Really, he had, but Padfoot made it impossible. It felt like every day, Padfoot stole another little piece of Remus from him and he hated it.

“Sausages?” James asked, holding up two packets of Sainsbury’s finest sausages. Sirius wasn’t the only one miffed that Remus hadn’t shown for pub night again. Rather than sulk about it, though, James had invited everyone to Sirius and Remus’ house for a BBQ on Saturday afternoon so they could all meet the beast who’d torn their group apart. And that was how Sirius found himself in the local supermarket on a Saturday morning with a trolley full of beer and boxed wine.

“Yeah, obviously, but not the fancy ones. Just grab a couple of packs of those cheap ones,” Sirius replied, indicating the plainly packaged meat products on the lowest shelf of the refrigerator.

“But they’re more trotter than meat!” James cried out in mock-horror. Or possibly in real horror; Sirius had known him to be quite snobbish about certain things. Posh sausages could quite possibly be the hill he chose to die on.

Sirius shook his head in exasperation. “If people want fancy crap, they can bring it themselves. We’re just here for the basics. Bloody dog’s probably gonna snaffle the lot anyway.”

“Aww, you two still not getting on?” James stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and patted Sirius on the head, so he grabbed a gammon joint from the shelf beside him and lobbed it at James’ head, earning a severe ‘tutting’ from an old lady who was browsing the bacon.

“Just you wait,” Sirius said after he and James had apologised to the lady. “You’ll have the pleasure of meeting him soon enough.”

“I’m sure he’s absolutely delightful. If Remus likes him, he can’t be that bad…although considering he puts up with you, his taste is questionable.”

“Oh, fuck off, Potter. Kindly take your poncy meat products and do one,” Sirius snapped. 

James’ uproarious laughter followed him through the supermarket as he stomped off in search of frozen burgers. Why was he friends with such dicks? He thought wearily.

———

It wasn’t exactly barbecue weather that afternoon, but they persisted with the plan anyway—what else were they going to do with a fridge full of meat? At least it wasn’t raining. Sirius zipped up his leather jacket to keep out the chill and shuffled a little closer to the flames licking through the grill. He wasn’t drunk enough for standing outside in the cold. James had taken over responsibility for fire and food-burning, but had quickly gotten distracted, so Sirius just watched on as the burgers hissed and spat, steadily turning a crispy black on their underside.

Beside him, and paying no attention whatsoever to the barbecue, James was chatting to Dorcas about his cat, waving a spatula and a pair of tongs around as he regaled her with stories of its mischief. Sirius had switched off long ago—he had enough animal troubles himself, without having to listen to anyone else’s. He gazed around the garden, not seeking Remus out, but finding him anyway. He was standing with Lily, Marlene, and Frank and they were all laughing together and fussing with Padfoot. The dog had been so nervous when everyone had first turned up, sticking close to Remus, his tail between his legs. But after a little while, he became bolder and started making rounds of the group, sniffing everyone in turn, until he was bounding around the garden like an overgrown puppy. Sirius couldn’t believe the difference in reception compared to his first meeting with the beast. It cemented in his mind the thought that Padfoot had some sort of vendetta against him.

“He’s so adorable!” came Marlene’s cry from across the garden. Traitor, Sirius thought, as she crouched down to scratch Padfoot’s belly. The dog wriggled and squirmed on the floor, clearly delighting in the attention. 

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed. Padfoot would roll over for anyone. Surely Remus could see this. Why was he wasting his time with such an easy dog?

“It’s so cute the way he follows Remus around,” said Dorcas as they watched Remus kneel down beside Marlene and join in with the petting. “And he does whatever Remus says—did you see earlier when Padfoot was about to steal a packet of burgers off the table? One word from Remus and he just backed off completely. He’s got him so well-trained!”

“Kind of reminds me of someone else, eh, Sirius?” James elbowed him in the side and waggled his eyebrows. 

“You what?” Sirius choked out. “You think I’m like a dog?” 

“Not just any dog, I think you’re like _that_ dog specifically,” James said, pointing at Padfoot who was now busily licking his bits. He laughed and slapped Sirius lightly on the shoulder. “What! Don’t tell me I’m the only one who noticed?” he said, looking around the garden for support for his ridiculous comment. “Hey, Lil, don’t you think Padfoot is Sirius in dog form?”

Lily wandered closer, bringing Frank, Alice, and Peter with her, and then to Sirius’ annoyance, everyone spent several long seconds looking between him and Padfoot as if there was actually any basis to James’ claim.

“No…no, you’re right. I see it,” Lily said, sidling up to James and leaning into him. Dorcas, Frank, Alice, and Peter murmured and nodded their agreement too, and for a few moments Sirius was speechless. He could only stare at his _supposed_ friends while his mouth flapped uselessly.

“Come the fuck on. I’m nothing like that fleabag!” he cried, searching his friends’ amused faces for any hint that they were taking the piss.

“Hey! He doesn’t have fleas!” Remus objected, looking offended on Padfoot’s behalf. Why had he chosen that moment to walk up? 

“Not the point, Remus,” Sirius growled. 

He glared at his friends who were all laughing and still looking between him and the dog, making their ‘funny’ little comments, and he decided he was done. He didn’t care if it made him look petty or childish, he had better things to do than stand around and take their mockery. How could they say he was like Padfoot? What a load of crap. 

Before he could storm indoors, a shriek at his side brought his attention back to the barbecue. James was flapping about his ruined burgers so Sirius was roped into cooking duty. He would usually be annoyed at that—he was more of a barbecue observer than an active participant—but at least it gave him an excuse to keep his back to everyone. So, he accepted the novelty apron and a pair of tongs without complaint. 

Sirius had quickly forgiven James for his dog comparisons while they cooked side-by-side. It was hard to stay mad at him after he suggested a competition to see who could cook the ‘best’ food, and then accidentally served Lily an undercooked chicken breast (which she hadn’t eaten, thankfully). He was finally released from his barbecue responsibilities after a couple of hours, once everyone was too full to force down even the smallest, charred, chicken wing. It’d been so hot standing over the grill, that he hadn’t noticed the temperature drop, but now, without the flames to warm him, he realised it was bloody cold. He’d shed his jacket to avoid getting grease or burn holes in it, but now he tugged it back on and zipped it up to his chin as he followed James to grab a beer and then joined the huddle around a cast iron chiminea someone had dragged out of the back of the shed and set up. Sirius had bought it over a year ago because he thought it looked cool, but it had quickly ended up in the shed with all the other garden things they never used.

As his friends’ conversations flowed around him, it slowly dawned on him that he couldn’t see Padfoot anywhere. The light was fading, but it wasn’t so dark that a huge black dog could hide unnoticed in the shadows. No one else seemed alarmed at his absence, but Sirius couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. 

“Hey, Remus, where’s Padfoot?” he asked, as he continued to scan the garden. It shouldn’t be this easy for a dog that size to disappear. 

Remus glanced down at the floor, and then searched the garden, his eyes following the same path Sirius’ had just moments before. “Um. I’m not sure, he was here just a se—” Remus’ eyes widened as he saw something over Sirius’ shoulder and he muttered, “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sirius whipped his head around, his heart in his mouth. It wasn’t like Remus to become easily spooked, and that was definitely how he looked now. It was most disconcerting.

He spotted the open door in the back of the garage at the same time that Remus called out for the dog, a panicked edge to his normally calm voice. Sirius leapt up, his chair thudding to the grass behind him. He was aware of the confused silence that had fallen over his friends, and maybe he heard one or more people ask what was going on, but he couldn’t spare that any thought. The garage door was open, Padfoot was missing, and Remus was in a flap, so that could only mean one thing; Padfoot was alone in Sirius’ garage.

Sirius reached the open door at the same time as Remus and threw himself into the gloomy space just as Remus flicked on the light switch. They both watched in horror as Padfoot, who’d been snuffling around the base of Sirius’ bike, looked up at them and cocked his leg. 

In the silence, Sirius heard the urine hit the bike cover—a hollow drumming sound—and then watched it trickle down the black material to pool by the back tyre.

He heard Remus gasp beside him.

He heard the collective gasps of his friends who were crowded around the small doorway, trying to get a look at what was happening. 

“ _Padfoot!_ ” Remus hissed. “Bad dog. Very, very, bad dog. Sirius I…I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how—”

“He pissed on my bike,” Sirius muttered. “Your bloody idiot dog pissed on my fucking BIKE!” He spun around and glared at Remus. “That’s it! I want him gone!”

James pushed to the front of the crowd around the door and stepped into the garage. He placed a steady hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Sirius, it’s fine. It’s just the cover and maybe a little bit on the tyre. You probably drive through piss all the time, so it’s no problem.”

“I don’t care! That fucking dog has had it out for me since he got here and I’m sick of it!” He shrugged off James’ hand. It didn’t feel comforting, it felt patronising. He knew his friends would all probably laugh at him later, but he didn’t care. The garage was _his_ space; the bike his most precious possession, and now the dog had snuck in and pissed everywhere. As far as he was concerned, there was no punishment severe enough, and if they thought he was overreacting, fuck ‘em. “If he’s not out of here by the end of the week, I’m taking him back to the shelter myself.” He shouldered past Remus and his gathered friends and stalked towards the house. 

He heard Remus shout after him, but he didn’t stop. He knew if he didn’t remove himself from the situation, he’d end up saying something he might later regret.

As he lay on his bed in his dark bedroom, he could hear people saying their goodbyes, the front door opening and closing, Padfoot barking and huffing, James’ booming laughter. But it wasn’t long before the house was quiet. He could still hear Padfoot’s claws tacking across the lino in the kitchen, and Remus’ muffled voice as he spoke to him in gentle tones. Sirius’ chest tightened with longing. He wanted Remus to come up and see if he was okay. He wanted him to speak softly to him, not the dog. He wanted Remus to feel so bad about his dog pissing all over the bike that he stopped fussing over Padfoot for more than five minutes and came to check on him. When he heard the creak of someone coming up the stairs though, he held his breath, torn between joy and nervousness. Was Remus actually coming to see him? Would he apologise, or was he coming to say he and Padfoot were moving out? Sirius strained his ears but could barely hear anything over the pounding of his heart. The footsteps drew closer and paused on the landing outside his door, but the expected knock never came. He didn’t know how long he waited, intermittently holding his breath as he tried to hear what was happening on the other side of his door, but then there was a shuffling sound, the soft rasp of slippers on the worn landing carpet, and he heard the distinctive squeak of Remus’ bedroom door opening and then quietly shutting.

Sirius’ breath exploded out of him in a frustrated gust and he angrily shifted on the bed so his back was to the door. Remus wasn’t coming to apologise. He knew how important the bike and the garage were to Sirius but obviously didn’t care enough to make amends. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. He felt annoyed and frustrated and sick, but most of all he felt lonely and abandoned. Remus’ lack of remorse made it obvious where his loyalties lay now.

“I don’t need him,” Sirius muttered to himself. If only he could get his heart to believe that.

———

Sirius didn’t sleep well that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about Remus and Padfoot; he was terrified that Remus would leave and find somewhere to live that accepted both him and his over-sized dog. When he’d wandered bleary-eyed into the kitchen in search of breakfast they’d hugged it out—albeit with one-armed hugs and back-pats, rather than their usual tight embrace—but the atmosphere between them remained strained. Neither raised the issue of the time limit Sirius had placed on Padfoot’s stay with them, but it loomed over them anytime Padfoot left a toy at the bottom of the stairs, or sat in Sirius’ spot on the sofa, or padded into a room behind Remus. By the end of the week, Sirius was fairly sure the dog wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and he wasn’t going to press the issue with Remus because he didn’t want to screw things up between them any more than they already were, but it hung in the air between them, tainting every interaction even as they both actively ignored it.

When Remus chose to stay at home with the dog instead of joining him at the pub on Friday— _for the third week in a row_ —Sirius tried not to take it personally. That didn’t ease the sting of his rejection though. It was as if he could physically feel Remus pulling further away from him, creating distance when before there had been none. Rather than talk to him about any of this, Sirius instead got outrageously drunk with his friends and spent the whole evening unloading all of his many woes on James and Lily. 

On Saturday, Sirius found himself Remus-less again, and crammed into James and Lily’s spatially-challenged front room with most of his closest friends. While Fridays were reserved for pub nights and mixing with the general public, Saturdays were all about their group of friends; hanging out at someone’s house, going to see a film, playing a board game, or doing something ridiculous like roller disco or ice skating (always on James’ suggestion). 

Despite the weird tension between them, Sirius had still hoped Remus would come to games night at James and Lily’s. He felt like nobby-no-mates without him. Everyone was coupled up—James and Lily, Frank and Alice, Peter and Dorcas (they claimed there was nothing going on, but Sirius had his suspicions)—and he hated being the odd man out. He never had to worry about it usually because Remus was always just _there_ , unless Sirius was on the pull, in which case Remus was an excellent wing-man, always knowing the right moment to slip into the background. But now, he was always at home with the dog, or walking the dog, or cuddling the dog on the sofa and forcing Sirius to sit on the uncomfortable armchair that they really needed to replace. Perhaps he would replace it—Remus was obviously ignoring the ultimatum to get rid of Padfoot, so he needed a decent place to sit. He’d get a fucking throne, then Remus and Padfoot would feel rubbish on their crappy old sofa.

He elbowed James in the side. “Hey, where can I buy a fuck off huge chair?” 

“What?” James looked around at him and frowned. “Huge like giant or huge like … I don’t know. Expansive?”

“Like a throne. Or, you know. Similar.” Sirius shrugged. 

“I dunno. Ikea?”

“Argos? DFS? Harvey’s?” Alice suggested, without looking up from the game board. 

Sirius hadn’t realised anyone else was listening in, but soon suggestions were flying in from everyone, along with opinions on which stores were better. No one asked _why_ Sirius wanted a new chair though, and he wondered whether they were all being nice to him because of the Padfoot thing, until he decided that he didn’t care why they were being nice, and just appreciate the fact that no one was bringing up the piss incident.

“What d’you think, Jamie? Want to come furniture shopping tomorrow?” He nudged James, thinking distractedly that he should probably slow down on the beer if he was getting this excited about furniture shopping.

James glanced at Lily and she shrugged. “I…can’t think of a good reason why not? So, yes. Fuck it. Let’s go buy you a throne!” 

The game continued, and Sirius even started to enjoy himself. He felt a bit better now he had a plan to start getting over being replaced, but the ache in his chest hadn’t gone. He missed Remus. He wanted things back to the way they’d been before Padfoot turned up to ruin everything, but he had a horrible feeling that maybe he’d relied on Remus just a tad too much. Had he ever actually told Remus how much he appreciated him? How much he valued his friendship? Perhaps it was a good thing that this dog had come between them. It would give them both the chance to go out and meet someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he or Remus brought anyone home. They would have ended up being perpetual bachelors, so Padfoot was unknowingly doing their sex lives a huge favour.

By the time Sirius crawled into bed that night, he had almost convinced himself that was true.

———

Sirius groaned as he was woken by a knocking at the front door. Well, less of a knock and more of a heavy, persistent, banging; as if the person wanted to knock the door down, but were too polite to go through with it. It was enough to rouse Sirius from the dead sleep of someone who’d worked too many hours and then spent two nights drinking his feelings away. He waited to see if Remus was going to answer, but the distinct lack of a dog barking suggested he’d already buggered off somewhere. His phone started buzzing on his bedside table, rattling against the glass of water he’d left there. He grimaced when he saw the caller ID— _James_ —and vague recollections of agreeing to an Ikea trip surfaced from the dim recesses of his hungover mind. Why had he done that? Oh, right. A throne. Drunk Sirius was a twat, he thought unkindly. At least there’d be meatballs, though, and maybe he could buy Remus one of those froofy candles he liked so much, or perhaps a cushion. Maybe Remus wouldn’t have replaced him if he’d bought him more gifts.

Cancelling the call, Sirius rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of faded black jogging bottoms that were sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor. James didn’t need to see his stripy pants, especially since they barely hid the semi he’d woken up with. Several dog toys loitered at the foot of the stairs, but he successfully navigated past them and reached the front door just as James started up with a new round of hammering.

“What?” Sirius growled as he jerked the door open.

James grinned broadly at him, his hands on his hips. “Well aren’t you a delight today,” he chimed brightly. He’d been just as pissed as Sirius had been, so how come he didn’t look and sound like warmed over shit? 

“Oh, fuck off, J.” Sirius dropped his hand from the door and wandered to the kitchen, knowing that James didn’t need an invitation to follow him in. “Let me get dressed, inhale five pints of coffee, and then we can go get your doilies, or whatever it was Lily wanted.” He felt the kettle—warm, but not hot enough for coffee—and then took it over to the sink to top it up. 

“Firstly, this trip was your idea, and secondly, doilies? Seriously?”

“I don’t know, you act so old and married, seems reasonable you’d want to decorate like a pensioner.”Sirius shrugged, flicking the kettle on.

James let out an outraged squawk and whacked Sirius over the back of his head. “I’ll have you know that my interior design skills are impeccable. Anyway, stop whinging. There’s been a change of plan. We’re not going to Ikea now.” He pulled out a chair and plonked himself down at the kitchen table, watching Sirius expectantly.

“But…what about the meatballs?” Sirius whined. He may have not remembered about agreeing to an Ikea trip until a few minutes ago, but he’d been thinking about meatballs ever since. “I got myself all psyched up for that weird gravy and the red jam stuff, what’s it called?”

“Lingonberry. I’ll take you out for meatballs another time, don’t worry,” James said before Sirius could protest further about the injustice of sudden meatball denial. “Now, sit down. You and I are going to have a little chat.”

Sirius frowned. “Sounds ominous…” 

“It’s nothing bad. Not really. Is, um. Is Remus around?”

“Course not,” Sirius scoffed. “Can’t you tell from the absence of his new best friend? He’s probably out house-hunting so he and Padfoot can live happily ever after without me getting in the way.” He’d meant for the words to sound light-hearted, but it was hard to keep the bitterness out of his tone. He turned back to the kettle to hide his face from James’ scrutiny and hoped he wouldn’t say anything.

“I suppose we can start without him, then.” 

Sirius relaxed a little, glad that James was apparently going to let his comment slide, although he didn’t doubt it would come up again at some point. James never could leave anything alone. The kettle clicked and as the fevered bubbling tailed off, Sirius grabbed two mugs and made them both a cup of instant. With no other reason to delay, he carried both mugs over to the table and sat opposite James, nudging his coffee across the shiny surface towards him.

James thanked him and took a noisy slurp of his coffee, before pulling out his phone.

“Are you going the tell me what the fuck is going on then?” Sirius prompted when James didn’t look like he’d be putting his phone down any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll get to it. Did I show you the latest picture I took of Betty?” He held up his phone and Sirius could just make out the shape of James and Lily’s cat sprawled out on their carpet, although it could be shadow. It was black, so with its eyes shut, it basically ceased to exist in corporeal form. “Isn’t she cute?” James was stalling. They both knew that Sirius didn’t want to look at the cat, yet there it was, being waved in front of him. “She did the most adorable thing the other day, did Lily tell you about it? What am I saying, of course she didn’t. Well…” 

As James launched into a pointless story about his cat, Sirius slumped forward, his head hitting the table with a dull thud. Why did James wake him up for a week old cat story? He groaned loudly and banged his head on the table a few more times just to make the point. None of this was doing his hangover any favours.

“…Sirius? You okay?”

Sirius rolled his head so he could peer up at James across the table before straightening up with a huff. The hard table top really wasn’t helping his headache. “Look, I love a cat story as much as the next guy, but if we’re not going throne shopping, and you’ve not got anything more interesting than cat photos to show me, then I’m going back to bed. You can show yourself out.” He stood up, the chair juddering back along the lino. 

“Wait, Sirius—” James didn’t get to finish his plea because in that instant, the front door swung open and Padfoot bounded in, all hot panting breath, damp fur, and slobber. When he saw James, he darted forward, claws clacking across the floor as he skidded over to greet the visitor. “Hey boy! This is a much nicer welcome than I got from grumpy over there. Aren’t you a good boy. Yes, you are. You’re the best boy, aren’t you?”

Sirius curled his lip in disgust. Bloody animal was trying to steal his other best friend now. He looked up and saw Remus watching him from the doorway. His hair was damp and his cheeks were flushed from the early morning air. From the state of his soggy jumper, he hadn’t worn a coat and Sirius had a strong urge to strip him down and shove him into the shower before he could catch a chill. He found himself grinning at Remus, and saw the corners of Remus’ mouth twitched up in an answering smile, but it fell from his lips as he quickly averted his gaze and started fixing himself a tea. 

Guilt surged through Sirius. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten that things were weird between them and it had been just like old times, even with Padfoot snuffling and snorting in the background. He hated how awkward things had become between them, but he couldn’t see any way to fix it. Was this just how it would be from now on? He’d always known that one day Remus would meet someone special and move on, but it had never once occurred to him that he could be so easily replaced by a dog—it made him question whether Remus had ever really cared for him at all. It was one thing knowing the crush was one-sided, but it was quite another realising that the whole friendship had been one-sided.

“Now you’re both here, I only have to say this once!” James said once Remus joined them at the table. 

Sirius blinked, hating the way his eyes burned, and dragged his attention back to the present. It had to be the hangover making him so maudlin. He risked another glance at Remus and saw his brows draw together in confusion. It was a relief to know he wasn’t the only one who had no fucking clue what was going on.

“You guys are my best mates,” James continued, looking at them both earnestly, “and I love you both very much, but you’re fucking idiots.” Sirius’ jaw dropped open, while Remus snorted, but James held up his hands in a placatory gesture to quiet them both before either could voice their outrage. “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m going to say something, then I’m going to leave, but I don’t want any interruptions and I don’t want to hear a word from either of you until it’s sorted. Got it?”

Sirius saw his frown reflected in Remus’ face and he shrugged his shoulder. Remus answered with a shrug of his own, then they both turned to James and nodded. 

“Right. Here it goes.” James took a breath and stared at the table for a few moments, tapping a finger against the side of his mug. Sirius knew that look too well. It was the look he got when he was actually thinking about what he was about to say, which strangely enough, was never a good sign. The silence was suffocating; even Padfoot seemed to be holding his breath. There was nothing but the _tink tink tink_ of James’ fingernail on the ceramic. Sirius didn’t want to hear what James was going to say; there was no way it was going to be good. He tensed, ready to flee the room with the first flimsy excuse that came to mind when James spoke again. “Remus, Stop projecting your feelings for Sirius onto Padfoot. You’ve made your point.” That was…unexpected, Sirius thought, staring wide-eyed at Remus who had managed to turn both deathly pale and blotchy red at the same time. Sirius’ thoughts went into overdrive. What did James mean? It couldn’t really mean what it sounded like, could it? _Feelings…?_ James evidently wasn’t done though. He turned his attention to Sirius, who tried to school the horror-stricken expression from his face because suddenly he knew what James was about to say and there was no way… “And Sirius, stop being jealous of a dog, for fuck’s sake, and do something about it. Go get your man! He wants you back, you bell-end.”

James sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest looking far too amused and pleased with himself. Sirius rarely wished death upon anyone—well, not for at least a week—but he wished it upon James in that moment. How could he expose Sirius’ deepest secret like that? It was something he barely allowed himself to acknowledge, and James had just casually thrown it out there! He thunked his head down on the table, curled his arms over the top and prayed to any passing deity for the kitchen floor to open up and swallow him whole. 

Padfoot whined, and Sirius heard Remus mutter something to him. Shit. Remus. He’d been so busy begging for a swift end to his humiliation, that he’d temporarily forgotten about Remus being there. Remus who apparently had _feelings_ for him. Remus who now knew that Sirius quite liked him too, and not in ‘friend’ way. 

Slowly, Sirius uncurled his arms and raised his head from the table to find Remus staring at him with his mouth slack, one hand held out absently for Padfoot to nuzzle into.

“Looks like my work here is done,” James said, his chair scraping across the floor as he stood up. Sirius didn’t look round. He couldn’t take his eyes off Remus. “Right, well, I’ll leave you lads to talk things out…or, you know. Come on Padfoot, it’s your lucky day—walkies again!” 

Padfoot barked excitedly, then snorted and whined as he nosed James’ chest, wagging his tail so hard, his whole back end moved. Sirius barely paid the pair any attention, though, as he continued to stare at Remus. After a flurry of barking and claws clacking, the front door clicked shut, and Sirius and Remus were finally alone.

———

Sirius had never been more aware of another person’s presence. He could hear every breath Remus took, hear the rustle of fabric as he shifted on his chair, the sound of his fingers sliding across the table as he absently traced circles across the wood grain. He swore he could even hear the sound of him blinking, his heart beating, the blood pumping through his veins. Remus was staring down at the table, brow furrowed and eyes slightly unfocused, like he was trying to puzzle out a particularly tricky problem, his light, brown hair flopping down over his forehead. He wondered if Remus could hear his heart beating too. It certainly felt loud enough, with the way it was rapidly pounding in his chest. James could probably hear it and he’d be halfway down the street by now.

He shifted his gaze to Remus’ fingers as they played across the surface of the table, mapping whorls in the wood and drawing patterns with the condensation left by the mugs. Smudged with ink where Sirius’ were stained with grease. Soft where Sirius’ were calloused and chapped from long hours working at the garage. Was James right? Did Remus really like him? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything? He’d spent years standing aside while Sirius chased after each pretty thing that caught his eye; trying to find someone who lived up to Remus, as he’d eventually come to realise. If Remus had just said something, if he’d given Sirius any clue that he liked him, maybe…he looked up from Remus’ hands to find the object of his thoughts staring back at him. Remus’ face coloured and he darted his eyes away. This was ridiculous. James must have been talking out of his arse—Remus was so obviously horrified by the idea that Sirius might have been having a few sexy thoughts about him that he couldn’t even look him in the eye. Could he pretend James had been wrong about him too? Would they be able to salvage any friendship at all? And more to the point, did Sirius even _want_ that sort of relationship with Remus. Yes, he was an attractive guy, and yes, maybe he had a little bit of a crush, but if they started something, it could ruin everything between them. Although, Padfoot had effectively already managed that, so…

“Oh for fuck’s sake. He’s right,” Sirius growled, deciding there was no option really other than to own the confession. Things were messed up between them anyway, so it wasn’t like he could make them much worse.

Remus blinked. “He’s right? You mean…?”

Sirius screwed up his face and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Was he really about to say this? What if Remus laughed at him, or fled the house never to return? He really hadn’t thought this through. There were _so many_ ways things could be worse between them. “I mean…I think James might not have been talking crap. Perhaps he had a point. Perhaps— I think…there is a chance that I might… _fuck_ this is hard.”

“You’re really jealous of Padfoot?” A flicker of amusement danced in Remus’ eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was struggling to hold back a grin. It was promising…Sirius tried not to get his hopes. 

“You think that’s funny? At least I didn’t get a dog because I was too afraid to…to…whatever.” He threw his hands up in the air and pushed back from the table. He couldn’t do this with Remus staring at him. He just knew he was going to say the wrong thing. Turning his back on Remus, he gripped the counter and hung his head, fervently wishing he’d never answered the door that morning. This had to be the most horrifically awkward conversation of his entire life. 

The awful silence was back, giving space for doubt to gain hold of Sirius’ brain again. Then he heard Remus get up from the table, and he held his breath, readying himself for rejection. 

“I’m sorry I made you jealous,” Remus said softly, the proximity of his voice causing Sirius’ breath to hitch. “I want to say it wasn’t my intention…but, subconsciously, maybe, I suspect James is right. I like you, Sirius Black. A lot. I’ve liked you for so long, it’s pathetic.” He chuckled breathily, the sound making Sirius’ stomach flip.

He was barely able to bring himself to believe what he just heard. “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked, still too afraid to turn around.

“Because…because you’ve never shown any interest in me like that, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by vomiting my unrequited feelings all over it.” He laughed quietly again, self-deprecatingly, and Sirius tightened his grip on the counter to prevent himself from spinning around and wrapping Remus up in a hug. How long had Remus been carrying these feelings around? If only he’d said something—it might have helped Sirius realise his own feelings. “All I wanted was for you to be happy, so I tried to be the best friend you could ever have; tried to make sure I was as important to you as you are to me… and I suppose I hoped that maybe one day…you’d notice me, and you’d realise you liked me back—” He sighed and Sirius imagined him running a hand through his hair, chewing his bottom lip, fiddling with the frayed cuff of his jumper. “But you never did. And then Padfoot came along, and he needed me, and I thought it would be nice to have some company when you work late or go out to the pub… and perhaps a small part of me hoped you’d realise how much I meant to you if I wasn’t trailing after you like a lovesick puppy all the time.”

Sirius hunched over the counter. He’d been so oblivious—how had he not noticed what he was doing to Remus? How had he ever thought it was okay to never bother texting or calling when he was running late. And all those times he’d dragged him to the pub and then abandoned him because someone pretty batted their eyelashes or bought him a drink. He was a terrible, terrible person. “Shit, Remus. You’ve always been important to me. I’m so sorry I’ve been a shit friend.”

“You’re not a shit friend. You’re a pain in the arse, and I wish you’d let me know when you’re running late if we’ve got plans…but you’re not shit. I should have said something, rather than pining away in the background. I’m sorry for trying to replace you with a dog.”

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, causing a shiver to travel down Sirius’ spine. He took a moment to try and calm his racing heart. “I sorry I acted like such a git that you felt you had to replace me with a dog.” Slowly, Sirius turned around and stifled a gasp. Remus wasn’t even a foot away. “I really am jealous, you know. He stole my spot on the sofa!” He chuckled nervously. Remus had about four inches on him, and standing this close, he had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. But when he did, his breath caught in his throat. The look of want, of desire, of _need_ in Remus’ eyes made Sirius’ knees weak and his chest tight. The air felt thick with anticipation. Was this really happening? He surreptitiously wiped his palms on his shirt, not sure what to do with his hands. Remus’ hand was still on his shoulder radiating heat that crashed through Sirius in waves. He wanted to wrap his hands around Remus’ waist, or run them through his hair, thoroughly messing up that mousy brown mop. He wanted to undo the fiddly clasp on Remus’ belt and yank his trousers down, then sink to his knees before him and take him into his mouth. He wanted to caress his face, sweep his fringe out of his eyes, and run his thumb along the plump flesh of his lower lip. But he couldn’t move. He was frozen with indecision and nervousness and excitement so he just leant back fractionally, ignoring the knob from the cutlery drawer that was trying to lodge itself in his coccyx and the hand still on Sirius’ shoulder sent waves of heat crashing through him.

Remus took a step closer, the hand on Sirius’ shoulder slipping to the back of his neck and burying itself in Sirius’ hair. Sirius’ hands clenched at his sides, still unsure of where to put them, or what to do. They were close enough now that he could feel Remus’ breath on his face, hot and unsteady, and it soothed the panic threatening to burst out of his chest knowing that Remus was as affected as him. He wondered why it took him so long to realise how perfect Remus was, how much he completely and undeniably fancied the pants off him. It was no wonder he never felt satisfied by any of his previous dalliances. No one had ever turned him so senseless with just the brush of a hand through his hair and a heated look. He watched Remus expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move, all his confidence gone. He knew something was going to happen, fairly certain he knew what it was too, but what if he was wrong…what if he was completely misreading the situation?

Time seemed to slow down as Remus took another shuffling step closer. They were toe-to-toe now. It was really going to happen; they were going to kiss. Sirius held his breath, hoping that a lack of oxygen would discourage his heart from trying to pound through his ribcage, but it only made him feel more light-headed, and when he released the breath, it played across Remus’ face, fluttering the fine hairs framing his face and curling over the tops his ears. Sirius startled as Remus’ fingers skated lightly across his cheekbone, leaving a trail of sparks on his skin, and tucked a stray lock of inky black hair behind his ear, and Sirius thought he might melt through the floor. He’d never been so turned on in his life and they’d not even done anything. He’d always been weak for Remus playing with his hair though, and his touch was so soft, it was almost reverent.

Releasing a shaky breath, Sirius tentatively curled his fingers around Remus’ waist, marvelling at the heat he could feel, the firmness, even through layers of clothing. He tugged gently, encouraging Remus to close the distance further, preferably to remove it altogether, and he moved without resistance. Remus’ face was a hair’s-breadth away now. Sirius closed his eyes, letting Remus’ scent engulf him. Their noses nudged, breath mingling, lips brushing so delicately, until something snapped.

Their lips crashed together, and Sirius emitted a low groan as Remus nipped and sucked at his bottom lip, and then pressed his tongue into his mouth. His grip on Remus’ hips tightened as he pulled them closer, seeking friction. Remus’ hands were everywhere, smoothing up and down his back, scratching through his hair, sliding down toward his arse and slipping inside the waistband of his loose pyjama bottoms. Sirius had already been half-hard from the anticipation, so it didn’t take long to get fully erect, especially not with the delicious press of Remus’ erection against his own. He felt like a teenager again, having a first furtive fumble around the back of the bike sheds. He slipped his hands beneath Remus’ jumper, digging his fingernails into soft flesh and delighting in the feral noise it drew from Remus as he scraped his nails down his back. 

“Fuck, Remus…wanted you for so long,” he rasped, tilting his head back to give Remus better access to his neck. He was dimly aware that James could arrive back at any minute, and that they should probably take this into one of the bedrooms, but that would mean detaching himself from Remus and there was no way he could do that, not right now, not with the way Remus was grinding against him and sucking on his neck and kneading his arse.

Their movements became frantic as they each neared completion, chasing their orgasms. Sirius was the first to crash over the edge with a ragged cry that seemed to spur Remus on to his own release. They stood, entwined together, panting heavily. Sirius felt boneless and giddy with happiness. If it wasn’t for Remus’ arms around him and the counter jabbing into his back, he would have slid to the floor. 

“That was…” Sirius panted, resting his forehead against Remus’ shoulder, his hands still tucked beneath his jumper against his now-slick back.

“Yeah,” Remus huffed. His mouth pressed against Sirius’ hair.

“I normally… I mean. It’s not usually over that quick. Just, you know, for future reference. Like, please don’t judge my performance based on one desperate fumble because—”

“Sirius?” Remus cut him off before he could ramble himself into a hole.

He screwed his eyes up, unwilling to lift his head to meet Remus’ eyes. “Yeah?” This was it. The rejection. _Sirius, you’re great, and I love you as a friend, but your frotting technique is awful and you came faster than a fifteen-year-old watching his first porno so let’s end it now_.

“We have all the time in the world to improve our _performances_ ,” he replied. He pressed a kiss to Sirius’ head and then pulled back, forcing Sirius to look up at him. “That is, if you still want to do this again?”

The uncertainty in his voice sent waves of guilt through Sirius because once again, he’d got so caught up in his own worries, he’d neglected to consider what Remus must be feeling too. “Yeah, for sure!” he rushed out, wincing at how needy and desperate he sounded.

Remus chuckled and ducked down to claim another kiss that Sirius willingly gave him.

“I guess we owe James a pint,” Remus said once they pulled apart. 

“Fuck that, I’ll buy him a whole bloody bar,” Sirius replied, unable to keep the sappy grin off his face as Remus entwined their fingers together. He couldn’t quite believe it, even with the taste of Remus still in his mouth and the come making a soggy mess of his boxers.

———

By the time James arrived back with Padfoot, Remus and Sirius had both showered and changed, and were sitting back at the kitchen table clutching fresh coffees, their legs hooked together beneath the table.

“Hello! We’re back! Tuck away your dicks and make yourselves decent!” James hollered, wandering into the kitchen with a hand over his eyes. Padfoot stood at his side looking curiously around the room as water dripped off his thick black coat.

“Did you swim?” Sirius asked, taking in the rapidly growing puddle at Padfoot’s feet and water trickling down James’ face.

“Ha bloody ha. It decided to piss it down as soon as we got to the towpath but I didn’t want to come back too soon in case…you know.” He glanced expectantly between them. “So…? Please tell me my almost getting hypothermia has been worth it…” 

Sirius exchanged a look with Remus, and couldn’t hold back a grin at the blush blooming on Remus’ face. “Well, we’re still going to kill you for forcing our hand like that but maybe you were right…” he answered. “And perhaps, and this is a big _perhaps_ we might front you a couple of beers at the pub if you promise not to be insufferably smug about the whole thing.” 

James whooped delightedly and danced around the kitchen singing ‘I knew it!’ over and over until Remus threw a tea towel at his face, which in Sirius’ opinion was well-deserved. Seemingly unimpressed with all the noise and laughter, Padfoot sneeze-snorted, then wandered over to the fallen tea towel and shook the water out of his fur, covering the kitchen in a fine spray of water and mud before easing himself down to the floor with a loud grunt.

The room fell silent and Sirius was conscious of both James and Remus watching him closely as he stared, open-mouthed, at the mess Padfoot had created. He carefully wiped down his face with the corner his t-shirt and glared at the huge black dog, but despite the fact that he now needed a second shower, Sirius couldn’t summon up the hate he’d so recently felt for the animal. It was over—he’d won. Remus had chosen him.

He sucked in a breath and exhaled through pursed lips. He knew he’d live to regret it, but he found himself saying, “I suppose you can stay. But I’m reclaiming my spot on the sofa, and if you so much as look at my bike, I’m turning you into slippers.” 

Remus stared at him, eyes brimming with tears, and Sirius was suddenly terrified he’d said the wrong thing, but the Remus all but straddled his lap as he threw his arms around his shoulders. “Thank you,” he whispered into Sirius’ neck.

“Okay. So, I’m going to go before my eyes are subjected to any more vomit-inducing cuteness. I’m happy you two have stopped being idiots, so if you don’t mind, I’m going home to Lily to explain why I haven’t bought the towel rail she wanted.”

After James left, Padfoot got up from the floor and forced his way in between Sirius’ and Remus’ chairs, settling his large, damp muzzle on Sirius’ lap and looking up at him with baleful eyes. “I suppose you’re not too bad,” he muttered, gingerly scratching his fingers through the wet fur. 

He caught sight of Remus’ delighted grin out of the corner of his eye and decided that he’d put up with a hundred Padfoots if that’s what made Remus happy because he would face anything for that man.


End file.
